


Endeavour: Crown

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse (TV), Inspector Morse - Colin Dexter
Genre: Coronavirus, Disease, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hospitals, Medical Testing, Pandemic - Freeform, Virus, epidemic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: This story borrows heavily from that of the virus of which the world became aware in late 2019 and early 2020. I've set it back in time.Story takes place between series seven and eight.Oxford has a Medieval fair. Morse somehow winds up on the living chessboard. Then he gets a cough, which doesn’t seem to stop...
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Kudos: 1





	Endeavour: Crown

Endeavour: Crown  
by Parakeetist

“Four!”  
“Hang on, is that ‘four’ like the number, or ‘f-o-r-e’ like golf?” One of the chess men raised his hand.   
Morse rolled his eyes. It would take forever to get through the rehearsal, at this pace. The supervisor thought different.   
They were getting ready for a big medieval fair. A group of people stood on various squares, which had been painted on the field.   
“The number.”   
“Okay, where do I step?”  
“Two squares forward.”  
“Is that counting the square I’m standing on?”  
Endeavour shifted from foot to foot. If this fool complained again, he would push the man over like a domino.  
“Take a break, everybody,” the supervisor called out. Endeavour let his shoulders sag, and walked off the field. He took off the cap he was wearing, and the tunic, which were parts of the costume. His undershirt was soaked in sweat.   
Morse went over to the table where his tote bag sat. He pulled out a clean undershirt and his button-up shirt, and quickly changed into them. He stuffed the dirty items into the bag and threw it into the trunk.  
He coughed, and covered his mouth. Nothing came up. Odd. The cough had been heavy enough, it should have produced something. He didn’t like the idea of an unfriendly visitor spending all weekend.  
Endeavour got in the car. He shivered as he turned the key. Maybe he would stop at the chemist’s. Then he remembered he still had some medicine in the cabinet at home, and drove off.  
He was about halfway home when he turned up the radio. All of a sudden, he couldn’t hear the music. His ears ached. He cleaned them with a finger. He couldn’t wait to get home and use a cotton swab.  
At last, he pulled up in front of his house. He staggered to the door. It felt like his legs weighed a ton.   
Morse opened the door. He hung up his jacket. “I’m home.” He heard the radio, coming from the back of the house. Joan was probably working on the laundry.   
There was a crack of thunder. The usual evening rain had set in. He flipped on the telly and sat down on the couch.   
Minutes later, Joan walked in. She had, in fact, been painting furniture, and had to shut the window when the rain started. “You’re here,” she said, and shook Endeavour by the arm. When he did not respond, she frowned. “Come on, then. Got to make you some dinner.” She shook him again. Still, his face was blank.  
Joan went into the bathroom and got the cough syrup out of the cabinet. She took a tablespoon and crossed to Endeavour’s side. “Come on, sit up.” She pushed him up and put pillows behind him. He shook his head and half-opened his eyes. “It tastes bad. That’s how you know it works.” She fed him the dose.   
He gulped. “Oh,” he moaned, putting a hand on his neck. “It’s terrible.”  
“Give it a minute.”   
“Ah. I need to lie down. No food.”  
“You sure?”  
“Please.”  
“Okay.”  
He got up. She put an arm under his, and walked with him to the bedroom. She helped him get under the covers.  
“If you want anything, call out,” Joan said.   
“Okay.” Morse tugged the covers over himself. He nestled into the bed.   
Joan had dinner and watched telly. After a time, she shut off the set, and entered the bedroom.   
Morse was snoring. Thursday changed into a nightgown and slid under the covers. She closed her eyes, and was asleep within moments.

…

Endeavour woke up three hours later. He felt like he had slept a year. But no, only since nine o’clock.   
He turned around. A river of blood was flowing from Miss Thursday’s nose.   
He shrieked. “Get up! Get up!” He shook her. She did not move.  
Endeavour picked up the phone and called for an ambulance. “Hurry, please. She’s bleeding. What? I don’t know why. Just be quick.” He read out his address and hung up.   
He got a towel and dabbed it over Joan’s face. The blood still flowed. He sat down on the bed and pressed the towel more strongly.   
By the time the ambulance got there, the towel was soaked. He let in the workers with their stretcher. They placed Joan on the pallet and lifted her into the vehicle.

…

Endeavour crammed into the back of the ambulance, along with Miss Thursday and the workers. The EMTs scurried to help the patient. They swabbed her face with an antiseptic cloth. One of them asked what her name was.   
“Thursday,” Morse said.  
“All right, Thursday, can you hear me?” a female EMT called out.   
“No, that’s her last name,” Morse continued, but the workers failed to hear. They were all reaching for gear. As soon as they applied each bandage, it would fill up with blood. The group would switch it out again.   
At last, they pulled up at the hospital. Everyone piled out of the ambulance. The EMTs pushed the stretcher toward the front doors of the emergency ward. Morse loped along behind the cart.  
The group entered the hospital, and were directed by a nurse to go down the hall. The same nurse stuck out a hand and stopped Endeavour from running.   
“Sir, I’m sorry. You can’t go with them now.”  
“All right. I’ll wait here.”  
“Do you have the virus? Have you been tested?”  
“Ah, I have not. Is there something going around?”  
The lady pointed down the hall. “Go. It’s down that way. It says ‘Testing’ on the door. You can’t miss it.”   
“Yes, ma’am.” Endeavour rushed off.

…

The second nurse, a man this time, jammed a long cotton swab down Morse’s left nostril. Morse screamed. “It won’t be that long,” the man said. He stirred the swab, and removed it. He placed it in a plastic bag.   
“Done,” the nurse said. His name tag read ‘Scott McLuhan.’ “You may leave.”  
“Thank you. I need to check on another patient, last name Thursday.”  
“Ask at the front desk.” McLuhan put the bag in a box, atop a cabinet. Morse took the opportunity to run down the hall.  
He reached the desk. “Can you tell me if a patient named Thursday is done with whatever ward she was taken to yet?”  
“Let me see.” The woman at the station ran her finger down a list. “Joan Thursday?”  
“Yes.”  
“She’s still in Intensive Care. They’ll notify us when she gets out.”  
“All right. Thank you.” Morse nodded and backed away from the station.  
He ran to the gift shop. There, he picked up a stuffed dinosaur, a bundle of plastic flowers, and some candy. Morse paid and went to sit in the lounge.  
A half hour later, he remembered that he hadn’t called her parents. Morse went to a phone. He put in a coin and dialed the number.  
It rang several times. No one picked up. They must still be asleep. He went back to his seat.   
In an hour, he tried again. This time he got the wife.  
“Hello, who is this, please?” Win said.  
“Hello, ma’am, it’s Morse. I am at the hospital. I had to go there with your daughter.”  
“Oh God, what happened?”  
“She had a large nosebleed. There is a virus that’s going around. They gave me a test. Your daughter was checked in two or three hours ago. I don’t know what they saw. No one will tell me.”  
“Oh, God. What hospital are you at?”  
“St. Stephen’s.”  
“I will be there very quickly.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Bye now.” She hung up.   
Endeavour decided to wait until the Thursdays arrived. He went back to the desk.   
“Excuse me, is Miss Thursday ready to see visitors yet?” he asked the nurse.  
“Let me see.” She looked in the log book, and looked back to Morse. “They just put her in a new room, for recovery. I’d let you have a few minutes.”  
“Thank you. What room?”  
“It’s A-28. Down that way.” She pointed to a hall.   
“Thank you.” Endeavour hurried off.  
He reached the room and tested the doorknob. It turned. He stepped in.  
Joan was lying in bed. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open. Morse stepped to her bedside.  
“Hello?” he said softly, reaching out to gently shake her arm.  
Joan shook for a second, and opened her eyes. “Oh! You startled me.” She looked over at him. “Morse. Thank you for coming.”  
“What happened? Did they tell you?”  
“A virus. A lot of people having been coming in, showing signs.”  
“Well, you’re in good hands.” He patted her arm. “I called your Mom. She’s on the way. I’m sure she’s bringing your Dad. Oh, here.” He put the three little gifts on the table next to her.   
“That’s so sweet. Thank you.” She smiled, and hugged the stuffed dinosaur.  
“I’m going to wait until your parents get here. Then I have to go home.”  
“Lucky.”  
He kissed her. “Don’t eat all the candy at once.”  
“I’ll try not to.”   
He waved goodbye, and stepped out the door. 

…

Within a half-hour, the Thursdays arrived. They both looked fraught with worry.   
“Hello, Morse, where is she?” Fred asked.  
“Room A-28. I spoke to her briefly. She seemed all right.”  
“Good. We’ll take it from here. Off with you. Get some rest, I’m sure you need it.” He and his wife walked down toward Joan’s room.  
Endeavour slipped out of the hospital doors. He stood on the pavement, trying to get his bearings. More patients were coming in, some clutching their noses or throats. This was going to be a bad weekend.   
He drove home.

…

It was still in the small hours of the morning when he woke to the sound of the phone ringing.  
“Morse?” he said.  
“Hello, lad.” Fred cleared his throat. “My daughter’s taken a turn for the worse. As soon as you left, when her mother and I got to the room, they said she couldn’t see visitors anymore. They had to give her more tests.”  
“Oh.” Morse’s pulse raced. “Did they say why?”  
“Well, I assumed it’s this doggone flu I’ve heard about, but she already got her shot this year.”  
“I guess we’ll know when they say it.”  
“Yes. They told us to wait. I’ve been here long enough. If they don’t have an answer for us soon, her mother and I will go home. I called Sam and left a message for him.”  
“Yes.”  
“Get back to sleep. You need it.”  
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”  
He hung up. Then he got up to use the washroom, and crawled back under the sheets.  
Endeavour stared at the ceiling for a while. Then he switched on the radio, at a very low volume.   
It was no good, not having her body next to his. Surely she’d be released some time later today. Surely.  
He kicked his feet, and took deep breaths. He drifted off to the music.

…

By the fourth day, Morse had stopped calling the hospital.   
The city had set out a shelter-in-place order. People were to stay home, unless doing essential work, such as working at or visiting the petrol station or the grocery store.   
Endeavour was set at the front desk of the station. It was his first day there in years. He scratched his head and watched a woman in her early fifties walk in the door.   
“Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” The woman was breathing heavily. “Two boys chased me, in the park.”  
“Yes?” Morse took out a form and a pen. “What is your name, please?”  
“Agnes Jackson.”  
“Yes. Continue.”  
“I was walking to work.” Morse saw that the woman was dressed in a doctor’s coat and skirt. “They ran up behind me, and started to throw rocks at me.”  
“Ah, we’ll get you in an interview room. You can talk to – well, I’m a Detective Sergeant, but you’ll need to speak to someone else. Please, step over here.” He came out from behind the desk and flagged down a man who was walking past him.  
“Yes?” said DC Louis Turner.   
“Turner, take this woman to an interview room, please. You’ll need this.” He handed the man the clipboard.   
“Yes, sir. Come with me, ma’am.” He turned and walked with her down the hall.   
Morse flexed his fingers and looked at the clock. His shift was over. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to get his things. It might be time to buy a briefcase. He could store his insulin needles in there, as well as his papers from work. There were always too many papers to finish reading in just his time at the station.  
Maybe DCI Thursday had been right, though. Endeavour should get used to leaving work on the table in the hall. He had visions of becoming a useless drunk, whom nobody wanted to be with; even Joan would wind up sitting in a rocking chair, arduously trying to ignore him as he rambled on at the television news.   
He got in the car and started off. He took short cuts and soon headed into the hospital car park.   
Endeavour walked into the A&E center. “I’d like to check for a patient, please,” he told the nurse at the front desk.   
“Who, please?” The nurse was a man. He had a big belly and a two-day growth of beard.   
“Ah, Miss Thursday.”  
“First name?”  
“It’s-” Morse began, but before he could finish, the man found her name in the log book.   
“Yes. You see-” The man looked up, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He motioned with his chin. “Come here, if you would, sir.”   
Endeavour stepped up. “What’s this? I just want to know what room she’s in. I can find it myself.”  
“I am sorry to tell you this.” The man took a deep breath. “She’s passed.”  
“Excuse me?” Endeavour tilted his head. He did not understand what he had just heard. “Say again?”  
“She’s in A-28, right?”   
Morse nodded. “She was before.”  
“I’m very sorry, sir.”   
Endeavour stepped back. His throat hurt. His hands began to shake. “Listen, what’s your name?”  
“Mike Nile.”  
Morse pulled out his warrant card. “This is a police matter.”  
“But-”  
“I am under full authority to take a look at the body.”  
“Ah, yes, right.” He gestured down the hall. “Please.”  
Endeavour scurried off. He found the door of A-28. The handle was shut. Damn.   
He continued to shake the door, until a female nurse walked up. “Sir, I can help,” she said. She opened the door.   
“Thank you,” he said, and rushed into the room.  
He flipped on the lights. Joan was lying there. Morse blinked, trying to catch his breath.   
The nurse stepped in. “Yes, that’s the latest. So sad. Was she someone you knew?”  
“How long did you keep on the life support?”  
“Sir?” The woman blinked.   
“How long was the machine on? When did it show-?” He waved his hands.  
“That her pulse had stopped? We shut it off an hour ago. We expected her to go immediately.”  
He choked back a scream. “Did you ever think to get permission from her parents, to take her off the machines?”  
“Ah, I wasn’t aware-”  
“Did you?”   
“No, sir, I’m sorry. You should call them-”  
He waved her out of the room. “Go! Just get out of here!”   
The woman ran out. Morse hurried to Joan’s side and put his fingers against her neck.   
Damned if he didn’t feel the slightest flurry of a pulse.  
“Doctor? Doctor? Somebody get a doctor in here,” Endeavour yelled.   
Seconds later, a doctor ran in. He was followed by another, a woman. “Yes?” the man said.  
“This woman-” He threw his hands in the air. “Check her vital signs.”  
“Yes.” The man stepped up, with a stethoscope. The woman pulled out a blood pressure cuff. The man switched the scope to a few different locations.  
“Well!” the man said. “Got it.”   
“Blood pressure’s awfully low, but still there.” The woman unwrapped the cuff.   
Joan turned her head to the side and moaned. Endeavour jumped back.   
“Jesus!” he cried out. He began to cry and laugh and the same time. “Why did they shut down her machine?”  
“Don’t know, sir, but we’ll find out,” the man said.  
“What are your names?” Endeavour asked.   
“Gina Marciano,” the woman told him.  
“Lucas Pahlavi,” said the man.   
“Thank you, doctors. Can one of you bring back a ventilator?”  
“Yes,” Gina said, and rushed off to retrieve it.  
Morse leaned in and gripped Joan’s hand. She continued to mumble. He couldn’t understand a word, and didn’t care.  
In a minute, Gina was back. She connected Joan to the set-up. “We have to keep the mask on, until we’re sure she can breathe by herself.”  
“Very good.” Endeavour nodded. “Does she need water?”   
“I’ll set up an IV. That’s for now.”  
“Okay. You want me to get the other fellow?” Morse said. He leaned out into the hall. “Hey. Dr. Pahlavi?” Morse caught the man’s attention. “We need an IV in here.”  
“Right,” the man said, and looked in an equipment closet.  
In minutes, Pahlavi had entered the room and plugged in the drip. Morse took deep breaths.  
“There will be an investigation. I’ll want all the security footage you have of this room, for the past four days.”  
“Yes, sir.”   
“Where’s a phone?” Morse looked around the room, and couldn’t find one. He went into the hall. There, he called Mr. and Mrs. Thursday.

…

“They’re offering to settle.” Jim Strange held the phone.   
Morse picked up the receiver. “Morse, yes?”  
The government’s barrister spoke to him for a while. Many days ago, after he and the Thursdays had retrieved Joan from the hospital, Morse had filed suit. They were damn sure going to answer for their dangerous neglect.   
“Do you admit your guilt?” Endeavour said. The lawyer paused and cleared his throat.   
“Ah, such situations inevitably result in-”  
“Then goodbye.”  
“Surely we can do something! It’s not too late!”  
The man prattled on a little longer. He mentioned a higher number. “Is that amenable to you?” he asked.   
Endeavour picked up a notepad and wrote some figures on it. After a moment, he said, “Send over the papers. I’ll sign them.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“Goodbye.” Morse hung up.  
“How’d it go?” Jim said, with a smile.  
“We’ll get what we want.”  
“Looks you can fight city hall!” Strange said, grinning again.  
Morse went to the water cooler and got another cup. “Is there any juice in the fridge?”  
“See for yourself. Congratulations, man!”   
Endeavour went to the break room and found a pitcher of bright red fruit punch in the fridge. He poured himself a cup. It was sweet, but not bad. He made a mental note to pick up some at the store.   
He sat at his desk, and worked on the crossword. It was a devil today. Then the messenger arrived, and presented him with the papers; he signed them, and tipped the man half a pound. The young man left the station and zoomed off on his bike.  
Morse read files until it was time for the end of his shift. He went to log off the clock.   
Ahead of him at the machine was Jim Strange. “Tell Joan I said thanks for the get-well card.”  
“She sent you one?”  
“Yes, when I was cut.”  
“Oh. I remember.” They were referring to Strange’s injury by stabbing, last year.   
“Yeah, I always forget to stop by and say it in person.” Jim stepped aside to let Morse use the machine.   
Endeavour punched out and put his card in the tray. He pulled at the collar of his jacket.   
“See you, then,” Strange said.  
“Hmm,” Morse grunted.   
“I should really drop by sometime!” Jim yelled.   
“All right,” Morse said, without looking back.   
“Hey-” Jim called, but Morse did not look at him.  
Endeavour headed for the car. It stalled. He tried again, and the engine turned over this time. He sighed and put on the radio.  
The next tune to play was something baroque, with a lot of harpsichords. He pulled up at the light and leaned his neck back on the headrest. The music helped him relax.   
In the weeks since Joan had come home from the hospital, Morse had seen workers in shops, wearing masks; up until this week, when they were finally allowed to stop wearing them. No doubt, it was a relief. At the peak of the death rate, hundreds had passed away every day. It had finally slowed to a halt.   
Joan had been taking medication since she got home. It made her sleep for hours at a time. A couple days ago, she had finished the course, and was ready to return to work. Mrs. Law said she could come back in on Monday.   
Endeavour, meanwhile, had taken a test, and it came back negative. So had the tests for Joan’s parents. It was a nervous time, waiting for the results. Once they found out, they were greatly relieved.  
Today was also the day the doctors had said it would be safe for them to be together. He smiled.  
Endeavour pulled up to the house. He got out of the car. He could hear the noise of a conversation. It was coming from the back of the building.  
He walked around, and saw the Thursday family, having a cookout. Morse had indeed gone ahead and bought the chairs and tables for the yard, as well as a grill; the family was putting it to good use.   
“Hello,” Joan said, and kissed him on the cheek. Endeavour smiled, and waved to her parents. He noticed Sam, stood off in a corner.  
“May I get a plate?” he said.   
“Of course,” Win replied. “Allow me.” She picked up a set of tongs and pulled the last of the chicken off the grill. She set it on a plate, with a piece of corn on the cob. Morse took the food and sat down.  
“I was just saying, it’s been some kind of week,” Sam said. “I work at the factory now. I’m an assistant foreman. They just let me stop wearing the mask a few days ago.”  
“Yes, I noticed things like that, around town.” Morse ate some food. “Did the workers stick to the rules?”  
“Yeah. We were lucky. Not a lot of people got sick.”  
“Well, that’s good.”   
Everyone else had already finished eating. Sam collected their plates and tossed them in the garbage. Win sipped from a glass of fruit juice. “We’ll be leaving soon,” she said. “Didn’t mean to tie up your little nest.”  
“That’s fine.”   
“I don’t mind you telling me the chicken’s a little dry,” Win said. “I burned it. I already know.”  
“That’s all right.” Endeavour dabbed his lips with a serviette. “It’s good.”  
“Pshaw.” Win smiled.   
Fred took a minute to try and fold his serviette into a paper plane. He failed. “I don’t hear the pitter-patter of little feet yet.”  
“Ah, excuse me?” Morse said, with a baffled smile.  
“Are you and her ever going to give me grandkids?”  
“Dad,” Joan laughed.   
“Yeah, Dad, let them work on it.” Sam grinned.  
“Work. Ha.” Endeavour snorted. Joan elbowed him.  
“Eh, let’s pack up and get out of here,” Fred said. He got up and put on his jacket. “Come on.” Win and Sam went with him. From the door of the car, Fred turned and waved. Then they left.  
When they had driven off, Endeavour said, “How’ve you been?”  
“Getting better.” She reached over and rubbed Morse’s neck.   
“Ay. I don’t need that. You do.” He leaned over to return the gesture, but she got up. She picked up the last of the garbage and tossed it in the bin.   
“I can clean the grill tomorrow.”   
“Yeah. Come in.” He held open the house door.  
Once they were in the living room, he said, “I received a settlement offer, on the suit.”  
“Yes?”  
“I accepted. Now I’ll be able to take care of you.”  
“Thank you.” She kissed him. “I don’t doubt that.”  
The lights were on. Endeavour looked at the stereo. “Put on one of your Sousa records, eh?”  
“Are we dancing or marching?”  
“He only wrote fast pieces, eh?”  
“Yes, pretty much.” She went to the record player, and put something on.   
“Ah. Satie, ‘Trois Gymnopédies ,’” he said. He joined hands with her. They began to dance.  
“It’s almost a waltz.”  
“Yes, the ‘beat,’ even though it doesn’t have percussion.”  
They danced. After a moment, Joan said, “I’m sorry for my father tonight. He shouldn’t have said that.”  
“Oh, it’s all right. It’s been the longest two months of my life.”  
Joan snickered.  
The record came to an end. Endeavour kept dancing. Joan laughed again, and went to shut it off.  
He pulled at her waist. “You’re not getting away.” He kissed her.   
It lasted several seconds. Then she broke away. “I’m not leaving it playing all night.” She shut off the stereo, and grabbed his hand.   
In the bedroom, they hastened to get undressed. He grabbed hold of her and pulled her under the sheets. He strove and strove. She gripped his back.  
He opened his eyes, and for a moment, couldn’t see. Then he reached his finish. He cried out and collapsed against her.   
Joan stroked his cheek. “Should I get you water?” she asked.   
He shook his head. “I’m all right. Best I’ve been since you got home.”  
She settled back into the pillow. “I’m glad.”  
“I wouldn’t mind proving your father right, before the end of the year.”  
“This will require… practice.”  
“In which I am more than willing to take part.”  
She kissed him one more time. “Get some rest.”  
“If you insist.” He nudged himself over, giving them both a little more space, and closed his eyes.   
Joan looked over at the framed photograph on the bookcase. It was her parents, on their wedding day. She wondered if she would ever be able to talk Morse into that, or if he were now so scared to settle down, that she’d just be his, well, his girlfriend for the rest of her life. Maybe that wasn’t the word to use; they were both adults. Maybe partner would be better.   
Would that be so bad?  
Best not to worry about it now. Just be happy he was here.   
She closed her eyes. 

THE END


End file.
